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"Dr. Cheryl will see you now, madame," the receptionist said.

"Ruby," Daphne said, and I stood up and walked with her to the side door. The receptionist buzzed us in. We entered another corridor.

"Right this way," the receptionist said, and led us down the hall to a bank of offices. The first on the right was labeled, Dr. Edward Cheryl, Chief of Administration. The receptionist opened the door for us and we entered the office.

It was a large room with windows that had no bars over them. Right now, the drapes were halfdrawn. To the right was a long, light brown leather sofa and to the left was a matching settee. The walls were covered with bookcases and here and there were Impressionistic paintings, mostly of rural scenes. One of a field in the bayou caught my interest.

Behind his desk, Dr. Cheryl had hung all of his diplomas and certificates. Dressed in a lab robe, he rose immediately to greet Daphne. He was a man no more than fifty, fifty-five, with bushy dark brown hair, small chestnut eyes, a small nose, and slight mouth. His chin was so round, it was as if his face had failed to form one. Standing a little under six feet tall, he had a slim build with long arms. His smile was tight and tentative like the smile of an insecure child. It seemed odd to think it, but he looked nervous in Daphne's presence.

"Madame Dumas," he said, extending his hand. When he lifted his arm, the sleeve of his robe slid more than halfway up to his elbow. Daphne took his fingers quickly as if she detested touching him or was afraid he could somehow contaminate her. She nodded and sat down in the bullet leather chair before his desk. I remained standing just behind her.

His attention immediately shifted to me. The intensity of his gaze made me feel self-conscious. Finally, after what seemed an interminable pause, he offered me a smile, too, but one just as tentative.

"And this is the young lady?" he asked, coming around his desk.

"Yes. Ruby," Daphne said, smirking as if my name was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. He nodded, but kept his eyes on me.

Remembering Daphne's orders, I didn't speak until he spoke to me directly.

"And how are you today, Mademoiselle Ruby?" he asked. "Fine."

He nodded and turned to Daphne.

"Physically, she is in good health?" he asked. What a strange thing to ask, I thought, knitting my eyebrows together with curiosity.

"Look at her. Does she look like anything's physically wrong with her?" she snapped. She spoke to him as sharply as she would speak to one of our servants, but he didn't seem to mind. He gazed at me again.

"Good. Well, let me begin by showing you around a bit," he said, stepping closer to me and farther away from Daphne. I looked at her, but she kept her gaze fixed ahead. "I'd like you to feel comfortable here," he added. "As comfortable as possible."

His smile widened, but there was still something false about it.

"Thank you," I replied. I didn't know what to say. I knew my father and Daphne made sizeable contributions to the institute, besides paying for Uncle Jean, but it still felt funny being treated like such VIPs.

"I understand you're almost sixteen?" he said.

"Yes, monsieur."

"Please.. . call me Dr. Cheryl. We should be friends, good friends. If that's all right with you," he added.

"Of course, Dr. Cheryl." He nodded.

"Madame?" he said, turning back to Daphne.

"I'll wait right here," she said, without turning around. Why was she behaving so strangely? I wondered.

"Very good, madame. Mademoiselle," he said, indicating a side door to his office. I couldn't help my confusion. "Where are we going?"

"As I said, I would like to show you aro

und first, if that is all right with you, of course."

"Fine," I said, shrugging. I went to the door and he opened it and led me out through another corridor and then up a short stairway. This place was a maze, I thought as we made another turn and took another corridor in a different direction. We continued until we reached a large window and looked in on what was clearly a recreation room. Patients of all ages, from what looked like teenagers to elderly people played cards, board games, and dominoes. Some watched television, and some did some handicrafts like lanyards, needlework, and crocheting. Others were reading magazines. One boy with sweet potato red hair, who looked about seventeen or eighteen, sat staring at everyone and doing nothing. A half-dozen attendants wandered about the room overlooking all the activities, pausing occasionally to say a few words to one of the patients.

"As you see, this is our recreation area. Patients who are able to can come in here during their free time and do almost anything they like. They can even, as young Lyle Black there, sit and do nothing."

"Does my uncle come in here?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, but right now he's waiting in his room for Madame Dumas. He has a very nice room," Dr. Cheryl added. "Right this way," he indicated. We stopped at another door. It was obviously the library.